Blood Stained Petals
by GamerDragon13
Summary: Stolen by Ob Nixilis at a young age, Nissa Revane was raised to be his wife. Not even a fortnight after his grandfather is assassinated, Sorin Markov returns to Innistrad County to take his place as count. The two meet and their lives spin out of control. Fantasy AU, features OC's, Sorin/Nissa, Jace/Chandra, OC/OC, Torture, Rape, Domestic Abuse.
1. Prologue

Lord Edgar Markov of County Innistrad sat upon a pitch black stallion with red eyes and regal tack and armor in shades of black and blood red. He was a tall, slightly weathered gentleman with wild, silvery white hair and blood-red eyes. He dressed in finery, wearing white cotton shirt under a steel cuirass and steel gauntlets, a black cape, black pants, and steel boots. He was armed with a simple steel sword. He looked down the moss-covered hill, past the trees and at the elven village below. He then turned to his general, Ob Nixilis, who was mounted also upon a red-eyed, black stallion. The half-demon wore black, spiked armor, that head red pulses coursing through it. His horse's armor and his sword matched.

"Kill all those, men, women, and children who stand against you," Edgar Markov, the vampire lord, ordered Nixilis. "Do not kill the shaman and break the war leader's legs. Their daughter is your prize: Nissa Revane."

Ob Nixilis grinned darkly, and drew his jagged, black and red sword. His soldiers drew their steel tower shields, spears at the ready. Elves had great archers, due to their sharp vision, keen hearing, and life in the woodlands of the continent of Dominia. Naturally, the half-demon and his lord had brought their own archers, and their arrows were burning. They launched their fiery arrows into the village. Some struck the elven warriors and archer, some struck innocent civilians, and others hit the trees and elven buildings. Fire spread wildly, burning the homes. The people jumped out of their burning homes, some clutching children to their chests. People died, screaming in agony, or found quick deaths when they missed their footing.

This elven city was the home and the birthplace of many vampire and demon hunters, and for that, Edgar and his general wanted to "punish" them. They both watched, grinning in sadistic glee. Soon, Ob Nixilis would join in the battle, ride into the city, and find the elves' leaders. Soon, the soldiers were in the village, killing soldiers and innocents alike. The elves fought back, trying to defend the civilians. Finally, the half-demon made his move, charging into the village. He cut through elven warriors, his sword cleaving through the leather, cloth, and flesh like a heated knife through butter. He found the village's war leader, their own general.

Calomir Revane stood with a slightly curved sword in each hand and green eyes full of hate. He wore shining armor with a green, hooded cloak. He wore an amulet of the elven goddess Nylea. Ob Nixilis dismounted, sword in hand. Calomir charged in a flurry, spinning wildly with his sword. Ob Nixilis blocked and parried with ease. He was not to kill Calomir. He was to break him beyond help. He then fought back, slamming his sword against Calomir's twin blades. Their blades locked, and Calomir tried to kick him. With one hand, Ob Nixilis grabbed his leg like lightning, his massive hand wrapped fully around the limb. He crushed it in his grip.

Calomir screamed in agony, pulling away and falling back. Ob Nixilis swung the flat of his sword against the elf's shoulder, dislocating it. Next, he impaled both the elf's knees, crushed the other leg, and began to brutally beat down on the elf. Calomir blacked out at one point, and left a shivering mess on the ground. It was a horrific sight to see.

After he was finished with the elven warrior, he rose and looked at the tree Calomir had been guarding. He ascended the stairs built into the tree's trunk. He kicked in the door, nearly being blasted with magic. Meroe Revane stood, staff in her soft, small hands. She had dark brown hair she wore in two long braids, shimmering emerald eyes, and fair skin. She wore a simple green dress with long, flowing sleeves and parts on both sides, starting at the hips; thigh-high, brown leather boots; and a brown leather vest. She was beautiful, making Ob Nixilis feel lust, but he was not after her.

"Step aside, wretch," he snarled.

"Never, demon," Meroe responded coldly. She leapt at him, but Ob Nixilis grabbed the shaft of her staff and threw her into the wall. Meroe hit the wall, and fell to the floor with a thud. Her vision was red, and she watched as Ob Nixilis stomped up the stairs to the second story of the home.

The second story had two doors. One was ajar and led to a bedroom with a queen-sized bed. He tested the handle of the closed door, finding it locked from the inside. So, he kicked it in, barely missing the gasp of shock and fright from under the bed. He grinned sadistically as he walked over and flipped the twin-sized bed. There was an adorable little elven girl lying on her belly. Her tiny hands had gone to cover the back of her head. Ob Nixilis picked her up by the back of her green dress, setting her on her feet to properly look at her.

She was small. Of course, she was seven. She had curly, shoulder-length, dark brown hair that framed her adorable face and large, bright green eyes that were full of fear. The half-demon picked her up, carrying her out of the room. They passed Meroe, whose vision had cleared. She tried to get up, but a sharp pain kept her down. She screamed for her child, reaching for her.

"NISSA!" she screamed.

"Mommy!" Nissa cried.

Meroe dragged herself across the floor, trying to do something, _anything_ , to save her child from whatever fate awaited her.

"MOMMY!" Nissa screamed again as Ob Nixilis started down the spiraling stairs. "MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY!" Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw her father lying broken on the ground. "DADDY!" she cried. She struggled in the half-demon's hold, wanting to go to her father. "DADDY!" she screamed again. That was enough to rouse the brutally wounded man.

"Nissa!" he gasped weakly. He tried to reach for his sword.

"DADDY!" Nissa screamed a third time.

Ob Nixilis, still holding Nissa, mounted his massive horse. The horse snorted irritably. "Quiet, child," he barked. He grabbed her hair and backhanded her, silencing the child briefly. Naturally, the child started crying. He turned his horse away from Calomir's broken body, riding away as Nissa gave a final scream.

"MOMMY! DADDY!"


	2. Chapter 1

The room was dimly lit by a single fireplace, the flames dancing on the popping pine wood. There was a massive rug that covered most of the floor of the lounge, the floor beneath polished oak. The walls were sparse, save a few tattered tapestries and the head of a wolf mounted above the fireplace. There were two dead bodies in the corner, once lovely young female courtesans. One wore a red dressed, the other in black. Their skin was grey and icy-cold with death, their eyes glazed over. Both were drained of their blood. In the center of the room in front of the fireplace was a large, red, velvet armchair and mahogany side table. Three empty bottles of blood and a goblet sat on the table, a fourth, near-empty one placed beside them. A cold, grey hand grabbed the goblet and brought it to a pair of black lips and Edgar Markov sipped the cooling, congealing blood like it was wine.

He could hear fighting out, his thralls and vampiric descendants battling an unknown enemy. However, it was a losing battle because the assailant should never have made it thus far. Whoever was attacking him was either immensely powerful, well-armed, well-informed, or possibly two or all of the above. He questioned who it was that was making such a bold move. He suspected he would get his answer soon, as the double doors to the lounge burst open, a vampire in armor rushing in. One of his lieutenants, he noted from the reflection off his goblet.

"Lord Edgar, we can't stop her; we need he-." The vampire was unable to finish his sentence as a silver dagger impaled his neck. He gave a choked gasp, gargling on his blood. Then his head went off cleaning as a thin, razor sharp blade of silver cleaved through the flesh. The head fell off and rolled a bit while the body crumpled to the floor. Thick, black blood started pooling around the corpse and its head.

"So, who are you?" Edgar asked, looking at the shadowy figure reflecting off the goblet.

The figure knelt down to retrieve her dagger. The vampire knew it was a woman. The now dead lieutenant had said so. Edgar could also smell it. The woman was covered up, so he couldn't identify her.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter if you know who I am or not," the woman's hoarse voice said. She strode over, and whispered it in Edgar's ear. The vampire tried to react, but the woman moved as fast as a vampire. No, she hadn't really been there at all. An illusion.

"Clever," Edgar chuckled. "Where did you learn such a trick?"

"My secrets are my own," the woman said, walking over, this time for real. Edgar was on his feet this time, goblet on the table beside his chair.

He tried to lash out at his opponent, but she did indeed move swiftly. He tried to take control of her blood, but her body would not bend to his will. He drew his sword, intending to simply fight her one on one. The woman had a silver sword, whose blade shone red with a fire enchantment. So, not entirely a fair fight, but every cut Edgar made with his steel sword, her blood would heal his wounds. He had 6,000 years. How hard could this _child_ be to fight?

Quite hard, actually. The woman was fast and managed to stay out of Edgar's range. She had studied the sword in the short time since Edgar had drawn it. Its effects didn't work if it attacked an illusion, naturally, and she relied on those to help her fight. Edgar cut through another illusion. The woman's trick was to not stray too far from the illusions. She stayed a few steps behind them, letting her scent linger long enough to fool the vampire. 6,000 years made the vampire skilled in combat and magic, so how was this whelp besting him? And why was he beginning to tire? How could this be happening at all? Why, why, _why?!_ He cleaved through another illusion, the woman two paces behind it.

"How?!" he snarled.

Behind her facemask, the woman grinned. "Simple, I'm not ordinary assassin," she answered. "I've been studying you for months. My previous attacks were to test the waters. Once I knew how actual threats were treated, I stepped back, watched you get comfy, trained hard and picked up some magical tricks. I'm quite clever." The illusion spoke as she took two steps back, Edgar then cutting it down.

"You're an irritating little wretch," he snarled. He charged her, blood in his eyes. The woman danced around the room, her feet touching the ground lightly, gracefully. She ducked under Edgar's sword, gaining her opening. She thrust her sword through his gut swiftly, the blade going through. She then pulled away and spun around him, cutting his back. Flame danced through the wounds, cauterizing them, preventing them from being properly healed. The ancient vampire howled in agony, and thrashed at the woman in fury.

The woman danced around him some more, ducking and jumping and dodging each attack. She knew that if Edgar was allowed to strike her, then her risky offensive would have been for nothing. She had to remain on her speed-based defense. The vampire was beginning to tire. So when he made a downward slice, the woman spun around him and attacked from right to left, taking off Edgar Markov's head. The flames from the enchantment seared the flesh, preventing any possible reattachment. The vampire lord of Innistrad was dead.

* * *

Nissa Revane had done a lot of growing in the 14 years since she was ripped away from all that she knew and loved. Once she was brought home, she was locked in a windowless room with only porridge to eat and only Ob Nixilis to talk to. He would come in once a day and talk to her, brainwash her, and beat her if necessary, and there were a lot of beatings. Slowly, she came to accept life like that. It took two long, painful years of starving, brainwashing, and beatings to break her spirit and will. So she was nine years old when Ob Nixilis _finally_ let her out of the room. She then began her work as the household slave.

She was taught to wash, dry, and mend laundry and cook and clean. It didn't take long for her to get things just right, especially since failure was met with a belt to her backside. She was constantly pushed to her limits, going to bed exhausted each night. At 13, her body started to develop. It started with her breasts, which grew. Then one morning, she awoke to blood on her dress and sheets. By 16, stunning was a bit of an understatement. She had an hourglass figure with long legs and a fair sized bust. Her curly hair had smoothed out and fell to her thighs, forcing her to wearing it in a braid. This natural beauty she possessed made Ob Nixilis hungry with lust, the same lust he had felt for the girl's mother, only stronger.

He pulled her out of cleaning and cooking and thrust her upon tutors in music and dancing. This baffled her, but she took to music and dance like she was born to do it. She loved to sing and play the flute and somehow knew the dances of her people despite never getting the chance to do so. Either way, at 18, Ob Nixilis forced her to wed him. Nissa went along with it. What choice did she have? She didn't know if she had any rights whatsoever, and she suffered so much more abuse than ever before.

He would hit her over every little trivial thing: Refusing him sex, not fully satisfying him, disobedience, not cooking him meals, not letting him take a bath with her, and the list goes on and on. Sometimes, she would be "perfect" and he would come home drunk and beat her. Three years later, Nissa was now 21 and cradling an infant in her arms. Her baby. The child a quarter demon, a quarter human, and half elf, possessing both demon and elven traits. The child had light black skin, bright red eyes, snowy white hair, and pointed ears. Despite the child's father, Nissa loved her, and named her Savra.

Nissa started to sing to the beautiful, dark elf child. Savra listened to her mother's lullaby, watching her with her large, crimson eyes. She loved her mother's voice. It made Nissa sing with a smile on her face. This was her life, the child before her. Savra was the reason she carried on living. At this point, she didn't have many other options, and a deep, horrifying fear settled in: What if Ob Nixilis chose to take Savra away to punish her? The thought made Nissa sick to her stomach. So, she forced her mind back to her daughter and continued singing the lullaby.

* * *

Sorin Markov looked much like his grandfather with the facial features and the deathly grey skin, but Sorin was more muscular, he wore his silver-white hair carelessly, and his eyes were a shining orange, rather than red, since he drank a combination of both humanoid and animal blood. He dressed in a puffy-sleeved white shirt with brown leather wound around his waist down and around his wrist and lower arms, a black leather vest trimmed in bronze, black pants, brown boots, and a red bloodstone on a bronze chain. He rode a dapple grey mare with simple tack alongside another, a human man named Jace Beleren.

Jace was an inch shorter than Sorin, putting him at 5'10" tall and rather…Skinny. He was pale and had dark brown, near-black, hair cut short and striking blue eyes. He wore a blue tunic with a black leather vest, black trousers, black boots, and a blue, hooded cloak. He was a powerful illusionist, though part of this ability had to do with his natural talent of telepathy. He rode a blue roan gelding.

They arrived at the gates of Thraben, the capital of Innistrad County, and started through the town, Sorin wishing he had his jacket out so he could wear the hood over his face. The people were all excited, thrilled that the vampires of Markov Manor had been culled and that Edgar Markov was dead. Some were dancing in the street, celebrating the tyrant's passing. He had oppressed the people for 6,000 years and now no more! Sorin planned to be a better ruler than his grandfather, especially because he was not him.

"For such a lifeless-looking town, the people seem happy," Jace said.

It had been a week since Edgar's murder, and no one had caught the culprit. Of course, no one really wanted to help find him or her. Sorin and Jace had been in Ravnica County's capital, the Tenth, when the messenger from Ob Nixilis found them. And now, here they were, riding slowly through the city.

"Edgar Markov had been oppressing the people here for thousands of years," Sorin pointed out, "and while he's lived in a life or luxury, I have been busy helping the world with its problems."

Jace nodded. "You don't have to punish yourself over events 6,000 years ago," he pointed out.

"It's not punishment; it's repentance," Sorin stated coldly.

"I'm fairly certain they're the same damn thing," Jace muttered.

A glare from the vampire shut him up. Jace had not had the best experiences with vampires. There was the time he nearly died from one having to drain him to remove poison from his blood and the second time one drank from him to read his memories while another was hungry for blood. The scars were still there where he had been bitten. So he wasn't exactly very trusting of Sorin when they first met. Jace had to read his mind to be sure he could trust the man. Since then, the two became fast friends, both possessing knowledges that the other sought and a fondness for literature. So when Sorin was called back to Innistrad and Markov Manor, he invited the young telepath to come along. Jace did so happily.

"So, are you happy to be back?" Jace asked after a few awkward moments of silence. People were staring at them.

"Partially," Sorin responded coldly. He didn't want the memories, the memories of him ripping his beautiful Nahiri apart, bathing and feasting on her blood in a blood craze. His little girl, his precious Avacyn, saw him, and he came out of his madness. The realization that his beloved wife and mother of his child was dead because of him shattered him. He fell to his knees, a broken man, and cried bloody tears. He begged for Nahiri's and Avacyn's forgiveness. Sweet, small Avacyn went to him, hugged him despite becoming soaked in blood, and started singing softly.

Avacyn stayed among the vampires for a time, as did Sorin. Slowly, though, Avacyn became sick. Sorin was faced with the choice of losing her or turning her. Instead, he sought out a different path. He sought out the mage Serra, and she helped him change Avacyn into an angel. And that was the day Sorin had to let her go. Giving her up may have been the hardest thing he ever had to do, but at least she would live, would grow up, would protect the innocent, and she became Heliod's oracle. After that, Sorin packed up, and sought repentance for slaughtering his wife. He became a hunter of demons and feral vampires, fought the wicked creatures who intended harm on innocent people.

Jace was certain Nahiri had forgiven Sorin a long time ago.

* * *

There were three of them perched on the rooftops of the buildings. There was a man and two women, all quite attractive. The man was six feet tall and muscular, and oh-so-yummy. He made the ladies swoon when he would walk past. He wore his dark hair wild and just past his shoulders, stubble around his mouth and running along his jaws. He had dark brown eyes that displayed a level of carefreeness. His lower right arm was red, a permanent stain he acquired while in the country Alkabah. He dressed in blue with brown leathers and accents of red.

The first woman was 5'6" and tanned, a light dusting of freckles along her cheekbones. She had short, fiery orange hair with natural gold and burgundy highlights and a pair of walnut-shaped eyes in a yellow gold, slightly oranges-ish, color. She wore a red vestment under a chainmail vest and over brown shorts; a pair of red boots, brown, fingerless gloves; and a pair of brass goggles with red lenses.

The second woman was half an inch taller than the redhead, but much paler than the other two thieves. She had a small mouth and a beauty mark on her left cheekbone. She wore her long hair in a tightly-woven French braid with fluffy bangs over her forehead and dipping over her silver-specked, amethyst-colored eyes. She dressed in black leather armor with silver studs with a violet jacket tied around her hips and armed with a dragon bone sword. An amethyst hung on a silver chain around her neck.

They watched as Sorin Markov and Jace Beleren rode casually along the main thoroughfare, people parting for them. They didn't stop dancing though. Everyone was simply happy. It made the three thieves smile, and think that maybe Sorin will be different. It was something to hope for, especially given all they heard of vampire's exploits. So who was his young, human accomplice? The man, Dack Fayden, and the redhead, Chandra Nalaar, looked to their raven-haired companion, awaiting her two coppers worth of input.

"Human male, powerful telepath and talented illusionist," the raven-head, Belinda Scale answered. She reached out with a tendril of royal purple, silver-accented magic. It tapped the telepath in blue, turning the returning tendril of magic blue with silvery-white accents. Belinda's eyes gave a blue-white glow as she read the mind mage. "Jace Beleren; grew up in Silmont's Crossing. Currently resides in Ravnica County in its capital, the Tenth. Only child. Loving mother, questionable affection from the father, and he knows I'm reading his mind. Abort, abort!"

The group ducked down into an alley.

The sirens went off in Jace's head. Someone had read his mind! He jerked the reins of his blue roan, getting a disgruntled snort from him. He looked up to the rooftops from where the prodding mind originated just to see three figures duck and jump into the alley between buildings. Who read his mind and why? He then saw a figure dart from the alley, the one who read his mind. She had conjured two illusions of herself, one charging Jace and his horse. His blue roan reared and whinnied in dismay and Jace had to grab the horn of the saddle, squeeze his legs around the horse's sides, and wound the reins around his hand. Sorin cut through the other illusion while the one who conjured the illusions darted around the back of Sorin's horse and stole one of the saddlebags.

She ran into the alley opposite the one she emerged from before Sorin could react. He quickly gathered his bearings and jumped from his horse, running into the alleyway after the thief. His eyes flashed red while a second thief, this one with red hair, snuck up on Jace. He had dismounted his horse and the redhead swiped his coin purse. Jace turned just in time, his blue eyes meeting her golden ones. The thief smirked, turning on her heel and bolting. Jace turned bright red.

Sorin chased the black-haired thief, reaching out for her whipping braid a few times. They were leaving the alley as a woman with brown hair walked past with a stroller. The two women impacted, falling to the ground. The thief hopped back up and ran. The brunette got up, brushing herself off. She looked down, seeing the dropped pack and picked it up. She tried to call out to the woman who ran into her, frowning. Sorin ran over to her, noting she was an elf. A confused elf who was so out of place in the city of Thraben. He came to a halt beside her.

"Excuse me, that pack would be mine," he told her. The elf looked to him, and handed him the pack without argument. "Sorin Markov; and thank you for being in the right place at the right time. Is your child well?" he asked.

The elf seemed to shrink a bit at him, ears tilting back a bit. She looked to her daughter and pulled back the blanket. The dark-skinned child blinked and giggled, kicking her legs. The brunette sighed in relief. "She's fine," she answered.

Sorin saw the infant. She didn't match her mother. "I don't mean to offend, but you two don't match," he stated.

"Her father is a demon," the brunette elf explained. She didn't seem all that…Happy. The elf smiled to her baby though.

"You're not happy," Sorin commented, making the elf flinch.

"What are you talking about?" the elf asked.

"You're not happy with your husband," Sorin answered.

"I have to go," the elf exclaimed suddenly, jumping a bit, pushing the stroller along.

Sorin watched her walked off, Jace riding over with his horse.

"Sorin, are you okay?" Jace asked.

"I am," Sorin answered. He got on his horse and the two proceeded to Markov Manor.


	3. Chapter 2

Sorin entered his family manor. Everything had been left the way it had been a week ago when the unknown assailant attacked the manor, though the bodies had been removed. The servants had been questioned, all saying they had, in fear, barricaded themselves in the barracks when they heard the screams. Jace touched each servant's mind, confirming their story. So, the assailant was only after the Edgar and those who stood in her way. And they knew it was female because one of the survivors had seen and heard and smelled a human female. The bodies had been removed, cremated, and placed in the catacombs, which Sorin now descended into. Jace brought a lantern.

"This place is quite…Unpleasant," he muttered, looking around nervously. He hated dark, narrow, enclosed places.

"They're the ancient burial chambers of the Markov family, back before we took the surname of Markov," Sorin explained. "Unpleasant is an understatement."

The ghost of a woman drifted past, her gown beautiful. She looked to Sorin with a smile. Jace paused. Seeing ghosts was not uncommon in Ravnica, as they were sentient and well aware they were dead. They interacted with the living on a daily basis even. However, Jace did not often interact with ghosts and spirits, hence his hesitation. Sorin simply greeted the ghost with a, "Hello, Mother." The spirit waved and then strode off.

"These spirits don't know they're dead, do they?" Jace asked.

"Part of them do realize they've died, but their concept of time is off," Sorin answered. "There is one person in here who has not returned, and I cannot understand why." They arrived at a chamber when an angel statue at the head of a sarcophagus of gemstone-encrusted silver with gold filigree. Within, there was a fine dust with threads remaining. After 6,000 years, it was amazing anything remained of his first wife, his Nahiri. He placed a single flower on the remains. It was a beautiful water lily in shades red and gold. It was a lily native to Zendikar, Nahiri's homeland.

"So, does her spirit linger?" Jace asked.

"It does not," Sorin answered. "I wish she did. I miss her every day, even though time has become irrelevant."

Jace nodded.

* * *

Chandra counted the coins from the purse she had swiped off the mind mage, Jace was it? There was a little bit of everything, save a platinum coin. So, there was gold, silver, bronze, and copper. She looked to her friend, who was fuming. She had lost her take from the vampire when she ran into Ob Nixilis's woman. Dack entered the room, noting Belinda's foul mood. The raven-haired woman was not easy to anger, but when she failed something, it tended to upset her greatly. Of course, stubbing her toe on something tended to draw a flurry of curses from her.

"Belinda, relax, it happens," Dack assured. "Just be lucky you didn't go through a painful procedure to have your arm dyed red."

"I know," Belinda groaned. She took a deep breath. She had look over her shoulder at the worst possible time, when Nissa was walking by. "And Nissa and her baby are unharmed at least."

The other two nodded. They knew Nissa's situation, and wanted to actually help her. However, Ob Nixilis had control over her, and now that the baby was hear, he had more control. She was afraid he would take her away. Just because Dack, Chandra, and Belinda were thieves, didn't mean they didn't look after those less fortunate than them, and misfortune did not always equal poor and penniless.

"When are we going to help her?" Chandra asked.

"We need to plan it right," Belinda answered. "You can't just break into someone's home and abduct someone and their baby."

"Why? It sounds remarkably easy," Chandra joked.

"Well, first we need to wait until things calm down from Edgar Markov's assassination," Dack pointed out, looking over a 3D model of the city of Thraben. The large, square-shaped table stood in the middle of the massive chamber and showed where there were market stalls, stores, and homes. It was amazing, and Belinda's favorite tool. Sometimes, she would have a moment of childishness and play with the figurines on the map, which did entertain Dack and Chandra and then Belinda would chased them with her sword around the guildhall.

"At least that asshole bit the dust," Chandra pointed out. "Seriously, whoever killed him has to be exceptionally strong and fast. The man was a 6,000-year-old vampire and surrounded by other vampires of varying ages. The fact that someone went in and killed every vampire between the front doors and Edgar and still had enough to kill the bastard says something."

Dack and Belinda nodded in agreement.

"And Thraben is now better off," Belinda added.

* * *

Emmara Tandris was a Light Elf and a local healer, though not originally from Thraben. She was from Ravnica and a friend of Jace's. So she was simply delighted when her good friend showed up on her doorstep! She had long, flowing, soft blond hair; dazzling blue eyes behind long, thick lashes; and the fair, ivory skin and long, tapered ears of most elven races. She dressed in a flowing, white dress with a green vest over it. She was as beautiful as when Jace last saw her over a year ago, when she decided to pack up and move to Thraben to lend her talents there. It hadn't been the easiest choice for, packing up and leaving her friends and family behind, but she had felt it was time to get out and see the other towns and cities, and Thraben needed her talents more than anything!

"It's so good to see you, Jace," she greeted, standing in the doorway of her current home. It was about two days after Jace had arrived in Thraben, and today they were going to have tea and sweets, along with a friend Emmara had made here.

"And you, Emmara," Jace replied, stepping into her hope. The air smelt both fruity, spicy, and floral, pots everywhere growing all manner of herbs, spices, fruits, and vegetables. How Emmara managed to get some more exotic plants to grow in her home was a testament to her skill. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents. "This will never change," he sighed. "The smell of your home always invokes good memories."

Emmara smiled, leading him to her parlor. When Jace entered, he saw Nissa Revane, waiting on them both.

"Nissa, this is Jace Beleren," Emmara introduced. "Jace, this is Nissa Revane."

"Pleasure to meet you," Nissa greeted.

"And you, Ms. Revane," Jace responded.

"Actually, it's Mrs. Nixilis, but Emmara insists on my maiden name," Nissa pointed out. "She hates my husband."

"So you're Ob's wife?" Jace asked.

"Yes," Nissa answered.

"We've been friends since I moved here," Emmara explained. "I didn't know anyone and Nissa wanted a family healer. Perhaps it's also the racial kinship as well as her needing a healer and my loneliness that's helped our friendship."

"I also don't have much in the way of friends," Nissa admitted. "My life and interests are usually restricted to my family and making sure they are cared for, especially my little Savra."

Jace nodded, taking a seat beside the lovely elven woman while Emmara heard a ding from the kitchen. The blond elf left the room to get the pastries she was planning to serve, leaving Jace alone with Nissa. He inspected her closely, noting the makeup she wore and light discoloration where it was heaviest. She wore a simple, jade green, knee-length dress with braided leather straps; a brown leather corset, knee-high leather boots, and green, fingerless gloves. Her had a wooden headband with silver and jade beads and had silver leaf jewelry with green enamel, and wore her hair in a loose braid. She was attractive, probably more so without the makeup. However, the discoloration he noted gave him pause. He was afraid of what he would find underneath. Finally, he noted that she was a bit on the thin side.

"I don't mean to offend, but I'm surprised your husband lets you leave dressed as you are," Jace commented. "I make a point of this because demons are typically notorious for being possessive of their partners."

"I wore a jacket; it is autumn after all," Nissa pointed out.

Jace nodded. It had been chilly this morning, though it was always chilly in Thraben from what Emmara had stated in her letters, even this past summer had been chilly to the point she never left her house without a shawl.

"So, how long have you lived in Thraben for?" Jace finally asked.

"Since I was seven, so…about 14 year," Nissa answered.

"Do you like it here?"

"Not particularly."

Emmara returned with the fruity pastries that were sorely missed in Ravnica. She placed them on the table and poured a minty tea. Jace realized how much he missed tea with Emmara. She knew his favorite tea, and always made blueberry pastries that were just perfect. Laid out before them was three different berry pastries, two of each! Like a small child, Jace quickly swiped his favorite, earning a giggle from Emmara. Nissa took the two raspberry pastries and Emmara helped herself to the strawberry ones. The pastry was soft and flaky while the berry filling was gooey, and the white glaze and dark chocolate drizzle simply sent it over the top!

"Emmara, everyone is demanding you return to Ravnica," Jace sighed, swallowing a bite of his pastry. "They miss your pastries!"

"I know, but perhaps someday I'll return," Emmara giggled.

"How long have you two known each other?" Nissa asked after sipping her tea.

"Since he was 17," Emmara answered, picking up her teacup while Jace started taking a drink of his. "He just showed up on my doorstep, looking sad, confused, lost, and utterly pathetic."

Jace coughed and cleared his throat. "I did not," he defended.

Nissa smiled.

"You were," Emmara declared. She sipped her tea and continued. "Of course, he must not have seen a lovely woman other than his mother before, because when I answered, he stared at me before I made a comment. He thought I was a mind reader too, but then I pointed out he was a teenage boy and he blush. It was the cutest thing." Jace was red now, and Emmara continued. "So, I took him in, got him into a bath and the clean clothes and asked his name. There was some uncertainty, and I later came to find his name was Jace Beleren."

"What happened to you?" Nissa asked Jace.

"Something bad I cannot entirely remember," Jace replied. "A lot of my memories are scattered, blotched out, or simply gone. Name and age is what I remember best, and even then it took some time to put those together."

"That's admittedly horrifying," Nissa commented, "to suddenly have your memories just gone."

"I got into a nasty fight with my mentor because discovered something terrible he was doing," Jace explained. "We attacked each other's minds and we shredded each other's minds. I made it out with some memories in tack, some scattered, and others as I described. As for my mentor, whether he's alive or not, I cannot tell."

Nissa gave a small shiver. The story unnerved her. "So, you possess mind magic?" she questioned.

"I'm a natural born telepath," Jace answered. "I suppose you could say I have mixed feelings about my abilities. It's caused a great number of problems, people tended to use me, bad decisions, etc. It was tiresome, and I started becoming reclusive and took a job as a writer. Then I met Sorin Markov and he ended up staying with me for some time. He received the message of Edgar's death a little over a week ago and I decided to come with. I had never been to Innistrad County and was genuinely curious, plus I know I had a friend here."

"So you and Sorin have become friends?" Nissa questioned, setting down her teacup.

"I guess you can say that," Jace replied. "I think that, no matter who or what you are, the need for friendship is inevitable."

* * *

Nissa returned to her room that afternoon with Savra. The baby had had a sound nap at Emmara's. The wood elf hung her coat up and put the stroller by the door. Savra still slept, Nissa smiling at how heavily the infant slept. She picked up the child and took her to the nursey. The room's walls were green-gold with a birch tree decals and fake, golden birch leaves on the walls and ceiling. The ceiling was painted sky blue and there was a green carpet covering the floor. It was beautiful, making Nissa comfortable and at home. She placed Savra in her crib.

"Sleep well, my darling," she whispered, and kissed her daughter's forehead. She slipped out, closed the door, and went to the kitchen where the servants were cleaning up from their lunch and preparing the supper. It looked like bread and venison stew this evening. After check on the servants, Nissa went back up to her room sat on the bed to embroider. She was working on a new blanket for Savra, and soon heard stomping approaching the room.

The door slammed up, making Nissa flinch and hopped to her feet. She set her project as Ob Nixilis stomped over, grabbed her arm, and threw her down onto the bed. He leaned over her, kissing her roughly while ripping off her clothes. His breath smelt of alcohol. Vodka, undoubtedly. Nissa hated this stupid drunk, but what could she do? She had to think about her baby, about her safety. Ob Nixilis would steal her, keep Nissa from seeing her, and if Nissa died, who would protect Savra? So, she forced herself to endure.

She felt a sharp pain when Ob Nixilis entered. He was never gentle, and it got some "affection" out of Nissa. She wrapped her slim arms around his wide shoulders and buried her face in the crook of his neck, wincing in pain. Ob's drunken thrusts were erratic and painful, making Nissa cry, whimper, and scream. The half-demon continued on, making Nissa's back arch while she released with a pained cry. Ob held himself where he was a moment later, releasing into her. He growled in satisfaction and pulled away. Nissa lay exposed to him, tears leaving grimy streaks in the powder and foundation that hid her terrible bruises.

Ob Nixilis leaned down and kissed Nissa. She was his. All his.

* * *

Sorin was in his grandfather's study, looking over the accounts. He was, plain and simple, appalled by what he saw. It was a good thing the old accountant had been killed fighting the mysterious assailant, because Sorin would otherwise have fired the fool! The taxes were outrageous, and yet the vault was barren and the county was still in debt to Ravnica, Theros, and Zendikar Counties! He got up, poured a glass of red wine, and sipped it bitterly. There was a knock on the door, and he replied with a cold, bitter, "Enter."

It was Jace, back from tea with his old friend from Ravnica. "So, how bad are things here in Innistrad County?" he dared to ask.

"Horrible," Sorin answered. "The accountant can count his bloody blessings he died. His end would have been far more unpleasant with me."

Jace blanched at that, taking a step back. "That bad?"

"Worse." Sorin explained the situation to the young telepath. The debts to the other three counties, the empty vault, and the ridiculous taxes. "We need to replenish the vault and find a way to repay the debts without straining the people," Sorin growled. "What news do you have from the streets?"

"A lot of stress and uncertainty hidden behind the joy of Edgar's death," Jace answered. "I spoke at length with my friend Emmara, and after exchanging stories with her new friend, she expressed a lot of concern for Innistrad."

Sorin sighed.

"There's something else," Jace pointed out.

"What?" Sorin asked.

"Emmara befriended Ob Nixilis's wife Nissa," Jace answered. "Elves do not typically wear makeup, and those who do wear it lightly and never foundation or powder. Mrs. Nixilis was wearing both and quite heavily. Well, I observed some…discoloration."

"Discoloration?"

"Of the black and blue sort. Bruising."

"I thought her voice sounded unhappy when we met the other day," Sorin growled. "What did you learn about her?" he questioned, looking to Jace.

"She's lived here in Thraben since she was 7, coming from Bala Ged, Zendikar," Jace answered. "She's been here 14 years. There was something she wasn't telling us though, especially because after looking around, there are no other elves in Thraben. A few dwarves and goblins, but no elves. It's mostly humans, demons, and vampires here."

Sorin nodded bitterly. "There used to be elves, but the vampires and demons drove them out," he stated. "I don't blame them, and things were different back then and it's not like Ravnica that has such a colorful population. This city, Thraben, needs healing. I have so many mistakes to rectify, so many lives to heal, and it has to be done with an empty vault…How can I do better when Edgar's essentially doomed Innistrad?"

"You'll figure it out," Jace answered.

"I have my own accounts," Sorin muttered. "If I pool them all together, maybe it can pay off Theros County or help heal Innistrad…" He took another sip of his wine, looking thoughtful. "What a mess…" He turned to look out the large, dirty window. "As for Nissa, I'm curious about her now. No other elves in Thraben but her and Ms. Tandris and the former had been here 14 years. That doesn't add up. Not to mention the discoloration you've notes."

Looking down over Thraben, he made plans in his mind. Perhaps it was time for a party. Oh, he always loathed parties…


	4. Chapter 3

A servant brought Nissa an envelope from the courier. It was addressed to Lord and Lady Nixilis from Sorin Markov. She sighed and gathered the front of her dress in one hand before descending down the stairs to the basement of the lovely home. Her shoes clicked noisily on the stone steps, making her frown in annoyance. She hated making noise, and longed for the noiseless shoes that the servants wore. Anything was better than heels! She reached the second floor and made a sharp turn to the left. Ob's study was at the end of the hall, and she stood before the doors, one hand holding the envelope, the other curled into a fist. She really did not wish to enter, let alone knock. Disturbing her husband was never a good idea, especially this place, but she was certain opening the letter without him would anger him more. So, she knocked on the metal door.

"Enter," she heard. He sounded sober. That was a change.

Nissa took a deep breath, opened the door, and entered the study, a dark, dimly lit stone room. The heads of people and animals on spikes on the back wall. Flies buzzed around the fresher heads, maggots dripping from gaping hole. It reeked off death and rot and blood with fungus and rot growing in some places, and Nissa was nearly overpowered by the scent. She coughed, nausea welling up. She swallowed hard, pinching her nose while her ears went flat. She nearly jumped when she felt something scamper over her foot.

"What is it, wife?" Ob demanded. He was reading a document. He looked at her, staring her down. He was certainly sober; his eyes were focused.

"A letter came from the new count," Nissa answered, her voice off due to her pinching her nose to protect her senses from the smell. Her eyes were starting to water. By Nylea, would he just get _rid_ of the rotting heads and clean the place?! She went over to the desk and passed the envelope to her husband.

Ob snatched the parcel from her hand. He read the address. "Sit," he demanded.

Nissa looked around. There was no chair, so she focused her will on one of the mushrooms, ushering it toward with her mind. The mushroom came, growing and thickening into a suitable stool. She sat on the fungus, getting a disapproving stare from Ob. Of all the things he controlled about Nissa, he could not control her magic. She was a natural-born mage, able to manipulate nature and command it without uttering a spell. He forbade her from learning arcana so she could better her studies, and that's where his control over her magic reached its end. In her eyes though, it was the only defiance she was allowed, aside from Emmara, her only friend at current.

Ob took a knife out and used it open the envelope and removed the invitation within. "'Lord Sorin Markov of County Innistrad requests the presence of Lord Ob and Lady Nissa Nixilis at his estate, Markov Manor, in the city of Thraben, Capital of County Innistrad on the Day of the Star, the 16th of June.'"

Nissa listened, and as she did, she wondered if she'd be allowed to go. She looked down upon the floor, waiting for Ob to continue, but he was rereading the invitation in silence. And with his silence, Nissa's ears were assaulted by the sounds of the Hellish room: The dripping on blood and water, the buzzing of flies and gnats, the sound of maggots hitting the floor, the skittering of rodents. Accompanied by the foul odor of the room assaulting her taste, smell, and burning her eyes, thus blurring her sight, and the cold chill of the room, Nissa was surprised by how still she remained. Ob knew she hated this room, and was keeping her there to punish her for bothering him. That, or this was out of his sadistic nature. Either way, Nissa remained still, even as rats and insects skittered over her feet.

 _I'm burning this outfit later,_ Nissa thought bitterly. It was a nice outfit, too.

"It would seem we need to call on our seamstress," Ob finally declared.

" _We"? That means he's letting me go?_ Nissa wondered.

"And you will dress in something other than green and brown," Ob ordered.

 _I knew it was too good to be true,_ Nissa thought.

"Hm…Something black perhaps?" Ob muttered thoughtfully. "No matter. We'll figure it when the seamstress arrives." He rose, gesturing Nissa to do the same. Together, they departed the study and Nissa let out the breath she had been holding. She was glad to be away from the damned room.

They ascended to the first floor, but Nissa continued on to the second floor. She wanted to bathe. In the bathroom, she shed her clothes and cast them aside before unbinding her hair from its braid. She turned on the water, filling the basin. She loved Dwarven technology. It afforded them hot water when she needed it. It was one of the few luxuries she appreciated. With a sigh, she looked at the mirror, seeing the bruises and scars adorning her skin. Was this what life was supposed to be? The way Emmara spoke of Elvenkind, it could not be. She cast her eyes back to the water and stepped in, and began to scrub her skin until it was raw…

* * *

It had been at least a century or two since Karrin Ivory-Wing, otherwise named Karr Ivorring, and Sorin had last seen one another. They nodded to each other in silent greeting. Karr was six feet tall, sporting a lean, yet athletic build much like Sorin. He was pale and fair-skinned, with snow-white hair whereas Sorin had an off-white and a pair of hazy, blurry purple eyes that were rimmed with gold. He was blind after a particularly nasty incident involving oil getting into his eyes just as he cast a spell of burning light. He was fortunate that he still had eyes at all! Though it could have something to do with him being Half-Angel. He dressed plainly in white, black, and grey, much like Sorin and carried an amethyst pendant around his neck. He had a cane in hand, using it to guide him.

There were two types of Lithomancers in the world. Nahiri was the type who could command minerals to take shape. Karr was the other, who relied heavily on light reflected in gems and crystals to see the past, present, and future. Sorin and Karr were always amused by the latter being blind as a bat and still able to see the visions through his crystals.

The Half-Angel's wings folded and shimmered before vanishing. A useful trick. "It's been a while, my friend," Karr commented, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing.

"Likewise," Sorin responded. "I need your assistance here in Innistrad. I'm sure you do not need me to explain things."

"Concern for the people, debt, the investigation, and the wife of that foul Ob Nixilis," Karr answered. "Oh, how I despise him. He's a wretched thing. Comes from the northern continent, somewhere near Tarkir I believe. He was human once, but then he became cursed and slowly became a demon. He was foul-tempered even then, from my understanding."

Sorin nodded. He had been to the north across the sea. He frequented Tarkir a few times, consulting the ancient dragon Ugin. "Have you spoken to Ugin recently?" he questioned, as they started walking.

"A decade ago," Karr answered, his cane tapping the floor. "I do enjoy his company." Time was practically irrelevant to the men, as they lived exceptionally long lives. To them, a decade was recent. "How fairs Avacyn?"

"She's well." Sorin seldom saw Avacyn. It was sometimes _decades_ before he saw her, and even then, they were rarely left alone. The guards tended to refuse leaving her side, especially with a vampire around. Those fools surely knew it was Sorin who made Avacyn…

"Be patient, my friend," Karr said, "and try to move on from the past. I haven't spoken to Avacyn in a century, but she worries for you."

Sorin sighed and he helped Karr up the stairs.

"I smell blood," the Half-Angel announced. "It's been cleaned up, but the scent lingers. There was a massacre here."

"A lone assassin attacked and killed the vampires here, including my grandfather," Sorin explained.

Karr almost smirked. "I had heard it was full-on rebellion," he stated. "But a single person fought and killed so many and still had the strength to kill your grandfather…This assassin has talent. I commend them." He, too, was an assassin, and his method always amused him. He would shroud himself in a ragged black cloak, spread his wings, and unfold his cane, its true form a scythe. Angel of Death.

"Of course you would," Sorin stated. He was a cold-blooded killer himself, but leaned toward subtlety. They then entered the study.

Karr took out a faceted charcoal diamond and reflected the light into his eyes. He saw a woman battling Edgar, fierce, agile, and using illusions. "She was making a statement," he commented.

"Pardon?" Sorin asked.

"Our assassin friend is a woman," Karr answered. "Quite talented, and she wanted to make statement." He smiled. "I know her combat style. She's learned from the same assassin brotherhood I have."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Not sure." Karr peered harder, but the vision yielded nothing more. He pocketed the diamond. "I can learn nothing more. Now, what would you like to know about Nissa Nixilis? Assuming I can discern anything from the Sight."

"Whatever you can learn," Sorin responded.

Karr pulled out a faceted, pear-shaped moss diamond. It looked like a peridot, though the negative facets had a darker, more emerald shine to them. So, it was easy to mistake it as a darker peridot or a lighter emerald. He held it up to the light, letting the vision come. However, it was obscured, hazy. He could see nothing detailing the couple's life. That was troublesome to the Half-Angel.

"What do you see?" Sorin questioned.

"Nothing," Karr answered, "and that bothers me."

* * *

"A party?!" Belinda and Chandra exclaimed in union, on their feet, as Dack made the announcement. Dack smirked at the pair's excitement.

"Alas, it does not look to be a very interesting affair," the master thief chuckled. "Hence, why we shall attend."

"What is the Cult of Rakdos shows up?" Chandra asked, raising a brow.

"Well, then things will certainly heat up," Dack answered, chuckling still.

Belinda smiled also. "I'm looking forward to the party," she said. "I shall wear my best dress." She bolted from the room, racing for hers. She threw open her wardrobe, smiling at her clothes. She wasn't sure if Dack had seen him, but she had. The Angel of Death had arrived in Thraben! She was excited and wanted to impress. Albeit, she was certain he was already impressed by her, and as she pulled out her best dress and looked at herself in the mirror, she smiled. "This will do quite well," she chimed.


	5. Chapter 4

The night of the party soon came, bringing a bit of chatter and some interesting guests. Olivia Volderan made an appearance, much to Sorin's annoyance. Well, one could not throw a party in Innistrad County and not invite the luscious, red-headed vampire. She pranced around like she owned the place, practically hanging off Sorin. She wore her hair in a regal, yet simple bun and painted her lips a blood-red. She wore a black dress with a plunging V-neckline that hugged her curves. Sorin was never overly fond of the woman, viewing her more with annoyance than anything else.

"Oh, Sorin, darling, this affair is positively dismal," Olivia commented. "You need to liven things up here."

"I didn't throw this party to entertain," Sorin responded coldly. "I am hosting this party to get to know Innistrad."

"How dull," Olivia sighed.

Sorin rolled his eyes in annoyance as various guests pooled in, dressed in dark colors. He had almost forgotten that most of the lesser nobles of Innistrad were vampires. Color wasn't their strong suit. And of course, Olivia had to invite her friends: The Cult of Rakdos. Dancers and entertainers, clad in black and red checkered patterns and sadistic thrill-seekers. They worshipped the demon Rakdos, with their main base of operations being in Ravnica. Jace paled drastically, especially when he laid eyes on Exava the Blood Witch. Exava grinned at him.

"Unnerved?" Karr asked. He had tied back his hair into a cleaner horsetail, though he refused to tie back the strand had three crystal beads around it: A clear quartz, a smoky quartz, and a silvery quartz. Plus he refused to remove his earrings, especially the ones with gemstones. He wore a black, velvet doublet with gold embroidery over a white, long-sleeved shirt with matching trousers and shiny black boots. Some of the women kept their distance, for they were vampires and he a Half-Angel, but they still spoke of how handsome he was.

"Very," Jace answered. His hair was combed, and he had on a dark blue tailcoat over a white shirt, black trousers and dress shoes, and had frilled cravat with a simple star sapphire pin. However, he felt vulnerable, uncomfortable, and prone without his signature cloak. "I'm just wishing I had my cloak."

Karr nodded in understanding. It would be like if he had to wander without his crystals or his cane. He would feel lost without them. He turned his head, the light catching on the crystals he wore in his hair. The light struck his eyes and he briefly saw three people who were not supposed to be there. They did not appear to be causing trouble though…

The doors opened, and the room fell silent as five people entered. The first was Avacyn Markov herself, with her white hair in a ponytail and two long strands framing her beautiful face while curling slightly at the ends; her eyes a striking silver like the moon, and lips, nails, and eyelids painted black and silver to contrast her fair skin and white wings and hair. She wore a black dress with a sweetheart neckline and silver embroidering along the hems, a pair of long black gloves, a black choker, and black boots. She was accompanied by two men and two women. The two men and one of the women were clearly from Theros. The last member of the group was probably from Bant. No one could be quite sure.

The first woman was clearly younger than both Avacyn and the Alaran. Nikka Takis, a noble from Akros, Karr explained to Sorin and Jace. She was a lovely teen, and quite excitable. She looked around in curiosity, not fearing the vampires so much as wanting to wander toward them. The Alaran, Elspeth Tirel, put a hand on Nikka's shoulder, and the older woman gave her a firm stare. The Alaran wore her medium-brown hair in a braided bun with a gold headband, her eyes a striking silver, and had a light tan. She wore a white tunic and brown leggings beneath gold-tone scale mail beneath steel plate armor and a long, flowing cloak. She could not have been younger than 23, but no older than 27.

The men were both olive-skinned and had dark hair, but it was quite difficult which of the two was the youngest. It was most likely the one, Daxos, with the dark, starry eyes in light blue and white robes. The older man, Gideon Jura, had striking blue-green eyes and his hair was tamer. He wore shining armor, carrying a shield on his left arm and a strange gauntlet on his left. Unlike the armored woman, who had a sword at her side, the man seemed to be unarmed, but Karr assured Sorin and Jace that the gauntlet was a sural, a four-bladed whip powered by magic.

Avacyn folded her wings, letting them disperse and went to Sorin. She embraced her father, missing him greatly. Sorin hugged back. They seldom spoke except for a few times a century. Like himself and Karr, Avacyn had lost her sense of time, but she could feel the moments between visits with her father.

"I've missed you, Father," Avacyn said.

"And I've missed you," Sorin responded, "and this is a most wonderful surprise."

"I know how much you hate parties," Avacyn stated, smiling. "I see that Olivia Volderan has decided to annoy you with the presence of the Rakdos."

Sorin smiled, nodding. Avacyn gestured the two younger oracles and the guards to come over.

"This is Daxos, Nikka Takis, Gideon Jura of Akros, and Elspeth Tirel of Bant," she introduced. Her companions bowed, except Nikka who curtsied. Sorin bowed slightly in response.

"This is Jace Beleren," he said to Avacyn. "He's my assistant."

Jace bowed slightly.

"And you remember Karr?" Sorin asked, and Avacyn smiled, her and Karr bowing to one another.

"It is hard to forget," Avacyn replied.

The doors opened again, this time admitting Ob and Nissa. Ob wore a black doublet with red hems and collar and gold buttons, crimson leggings, and black, hardened leather wristbands, boots, and belt, all with crimson thread crisscrossed around them and gold buckles. Nissa's hair was in a regal, braided bun, and she dressed to match her husband, and frankly, she looked terrible in red, black, and gold. That was the only thing wrong with the dress. It moved with her body, flowing to the floor with a small train, accentuated her slim form, and had a rounded, square neckline, making it perfect for her to wear a red velveteen and black lace choker with black and red beading a three, tear-shaped, blood stone drops. Again though, the colors did not suit her, did not accentuate her beauty. That disappointed Sorin. Green, brown, and silver would had worked so much better!

Nixilis and his wife approached Sorin, the demon bowing while the elf curtsied. Nissa did not look Sorin in the eye, let alone his face. She stared at the ground, like she was a slave. Even his servants looked Sorin in the eye. Okay, there was still an issue where he had to request they make eye contact. It was taking time to make them unafraid of him.

"It is good to see you again, General Nixilis," Sorin greeted, lying through his teeth. He never liked the demon.

"A pleasure to see you also," Ob lied in response. "This is my lovely wife, Nissa."

"We've met briefly," Sorin said.

Ob sent Nissa an accusing glare, one that no one missed.

"I was taking the Savra out for fresh air," Nissa explained quietly, no looking up, feeling her husband hard glare. She felt small, weak, and helpless.

"Lady Nissa, I would request you attempt eye contact when we speak from now on," Sorin requested of her.

He wanted eye contact. Emmara and Savra were the only ones she made eye contact with, and she barely made any with Jace. And she knew the telepath had picked up on that. Nissa forced herself to looked up and meet Sorin's eyes. They both felt a spark. His eyes were like lava and hers like a forest.

"I hate to say it, but red, black, and gold are not your colors," Sorin confessed bluntly.

Nissa did not dare speak. Not this close to Ob. The demon then spoke, "I think they're fine colors on her. She wears too much green."

"I would have preferred she had worn green," Sorin argued.

"Humph," Ob grunted. "No matter." He turned, left hand taking Nissa's right and turning her. "Let us dance." They moved out to the dance floor amongst the others and the festivities resumed.

"Anyone else think he's unkind to her?" Avacyn asked.

"I've noticed," Sorin answered.

"I'm blind and I could tell he's abusive," Karr pointed out, turning to Sorin. As he did, light reflected off the beads again and he saw the thieves. One, a male, was dancing with a wealthy woman, carefully stealing her necklace. A redhead was flirting with vampire male, hand in his coin purse. The final one was holding back, and Karr was intrigued. Her companions were robbing the rich blind and she was waiting. From the brief glimpse he had of her, his breath was almost stolen away.

"She's wearing a lot of makeup," Jace added, bringing Karr back to reality.

"And it did nothing to hide the discoloration," Sorin said. "I want everyone to watch them. He will not try anything if he knows he's being watched. And make sure you're not alone. Pair off and-. Karr?" He saw the Half-Angel disappear into the crowd.

"What's he up to?" Avacyn wondered.

Karr moved through the crowd, making his way to the black-haired thief. He found her leaning against the wall by a painting of Nahiri and Sorin on their wedding day. She wore purple, velveteen dress that accentuated her hourglass form and had curved v-neckline that kept the cleavage minimal. The upper half of her sleeves hugged her arms, also made of velveteen before stopping above the elbow. The rest of the sleeves were two layers of transparent purple fabric. The bottom layer was a deep purple while the upper layer was light and covered in glitter. The dress had silver, Nordic knot embroidered at the hip, the elbows, and along the neckline. She wore a simple, beaded necklace that had been wound around her neck three times to make it more like a collar with an amethyst sphere hanging from it and a pair of clip-on amethyst dangle earrings. Her black hair was done up into a mass of light curls braids at the base of the elegant ponytail. Karr had to take out an amethyst and reflect the light through it to see the beautiful young woman again, and this time properly.

"You are most beautiful," he complimented, looking through the orb of amethyst. He replaced the gem into his pocket and then offered his hand to her. "Would you dance with me?" he questioned.

Belinda smiled and placed her hand in his. "I'd love to," she answered, and was led out to the dance floor as a new score was started up. They danced together, slowly, just enjoyed the music. For her, this was a dream come true. She was dancing with her idol, and then she noticed the amethyst necklace he wore. The two amethyst spheres sparkled, connected.

Karr noticed it to. The gems had been cut from the same stone, and he knew she was the assassin. The gems had kept him from identifying her. "So, you're the assassin?" he asked in a whisper to her ear.

"Surprised?" Belinda responded, smiling.

"You're younger than I thought," Karr commented.

"Any older and I probably wouldn't have even bothered to try," Belinda told him. "He was destroying Innistrad. Someone had to do something, and most would fail before too long."

"How did you accomplish it?" Karr asked.

"I have the ability to mimic another's power," Belinda replied as Karr dipped her. "Like yours." The light reflected off the beads Karr wore in his hair into her eyes, and she saw Dack and Chandra working. Quite well, in fact.

They stood up straight, Karr holding her close to him. "What did you see?" he demanded.

"I shan't say, Angel of Death," Belinda responded. She quickly switched, tapping the mind mage's gift.

" _Beleren, read the woman I'm dancing with,"_ Karr mentally shouted to Jace.

Belinda used the telepath's ability to throw up a powerful barrier around her mind.

" _I can't; she's blocking me,"_ Jace responded.

Karr twirled Belinda, who broke away and disappeared into the crowd. _Shit,_ the Half-Angel cursed. He started moving through the dancing guests, trying to find Belinda. Of course, she danced and skirted through the crowd with ease. This party was turning out to be a blast. Now all she needed was a proper distraction…

" **THIEF!"** someone bellowed.

 _That'll do,_ Belinda thought.

" **IT'S THAT BASTARD WHO STOLE THE DAGGER!"** a Rakdos cultist shrieked.

 _Oh Dack, when will you learn,_ Belinda wondered, amused.

Chandra swiped coin purse, turning away to shove it into her dress. A cultist, this one a satyr, charged at Dack, but Chandra was faster. She ran and jumped between Dack and the satyr, giving the goat-man a good high kicked to the chin. The satyr fell onto its back with a thud.

"I could have handled a satyr," Dack told Chandra.

"I know; I've just always wanted to kick one," Chandra chuckled as more cultists came at them. The redhead smirked, and fire erupted around her hands. Dack drew two daggers that he kept hidden on his person. Neither was the dagger the cultists were talking about, which in the long run was probably a good thing.

The two fought the cultists head-on, who had jagged knives and sword, spiked maces, and one was a minotaur armed with a warhammer. Belinda jumped on the minotaur's back, grabbing his horns and steering him away. People screamed in either dramatics or fright, and Olivia laughed in glee.

 _That sadistic bitch is next,_ Belinda thought irritably, holding onto the minotaur. The creature stamped a massive hoof, cracking the floor and started trying to throw Belinda off. However, her hold on his horns gave her more control over him as she worked to steer him away from people. She ended up riding the minotaur out into the courtyard. She pressed her knees against his upper back, jerking his head back and making the minotaur stop dead in his tracks. He stamped his hooves and snorted angrily. He flung his head forward and threw Belinda off. The young thief landed on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs and sharp, stiff pain shooting up her back. She groaned as the minotaur raised his hammer, only to die as Karr slid to the side, swinging his scythe so that the blade went into the creature's midsection. The minotaur went to his knees, dropping his hammer while Belinda rolled away to the side. The skirt of her dress rode up, exposing the pant slip.

"Thanks," the woman said.

Nissa watched the chaos unfold around her. There was fire and knives as she hid behind her husband. Ob was laughing at the chaos, and Nissa could only wonder what was so damn funny! This was awful! Some of the guests jumped in utter sadism. Elspeth ushered Nikka upstairs, shielding the young woman's eyes from horror. A vase was thrown in their direction, smashing at her feet. Nikka jumped in alarm and Elspeth carried her up bridal style. Avacyn, Daxos, and Gideon drew their weapons, retreating upstairs at Sorin's suggestion. Jace ducked beneath a fireball, covering his head. He reached for the knife he kept sheathed in his boot, though it wouldn't likely serve him well for this scenario. A cultist chased him, and Jace ran until he was back-to-back with Chandra, who gave him a sexy little smirk.

"Sorry for almost taking off your head with a fireball," she apologized.

"As long as you aren't blasting me through a wall, thief," Jace responded.

Chandra hooked her arms around Jace's and pushed against his back. Jace yelped in alarm while the redhead lifted her feet and kicked a cultist in the chest. The blow sent the human man flying back into two vampires. When Chandra landed, she spun around Jace and launched a fireball at the oncoming jester. The freak fell to the ground, laughing and screaming.

"Never cared much for the Cult of Rakdos," the redhead commented. "Too much crazy, even for me." She was wearing a thigh-length, glittery red-orange dress, knee-high boots, and brown shorts. She wore her goggles as a headband and necklace of bronze with bronze, brass, and copper gears and cogs and little red gems.

Jace stared, attracted to the fiery woman. He had only ever felt attraction like this twice, and both women were polar opposites. This woman leaned a little towards Liliana Vess's polis, but she did not seem to possess the necromancer's seductive personality, her manipulative ways…Jace felt a shiver run up his spine at the memories of her treason.

"You okay?" Chandra asked, face displaying genuine concern.

"Sorry, spaced out," Jace answered.

"Bullshit."

"Well-."

The doors slammed open, Cathars, the regional military and law enforcement, stormed the room. They were led by Captain Thalia, who started directing the others. A few Angels flew in, casting a blinding light that made the fighting cease. Chandra gave Jace a wink and darted away, escaping likely through a servants' passage. Dack was nowhere to be found, but that was just as well. Sorin had been wise enough to cover his eyes. Karr was unfazed, and used the light to guide Sorin to Thalia to explain the situation. Nissa was in awe of the Angels and their radiance. She had always been told to stay away from the Church of the Heavens. Now she saw why. Ob was shielding his face from the radiance and the elf felt a sense of…Catharsis. She smiled at the demon's misery, and then turned back to the light, loving its warmth on her skin.


End file.
